


Can't Seem to Find My Way

by voodoochild



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe, CM: familyverse, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-16
Updated: 2010-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-08 01:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voodoochild/pseuds/voodoochild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason Gideon did what he had to do. This is his comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Seem to Find My Way

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternate take on melliyna's story Comfort of Broken Clocks, because she said she wanted to see it. The beginning is all hers, though.
> 
> Title from Neko Case's "Furnace Room Lullaby".

_You did what you had to do. The kids and Aaron would understand one day._

This is what he tells himself.

This is Jason's mantra, in place of music on the car stereo. He'd taken his work car, in which the stereo straddled the line between 'newfangled' and 'can't understand' for just that reason, though he figures he's got plenty of miles to learn the ropes. He stops at a gas station, buys some more supplies and unthinkingly, finds himself buying for seven rather than one. He feels his hand shaking because he's trying to run from this life, from all associations therein (Frank's voice in his head, still slurping that milkshake: _"Don't you have a lovely family, Jason? It's a pity you don't spend much time with them."_).

Maybe it was then, that Jason Gideon broke for good. He doesn't care, he's just going to drive. Going to drive and turn left, then right, then left again. He was planning on taking the inter-state out and then avoiding anything to do with schools, libraries, parks.

He doesn't want to think about the parks. About what Frank tried to steal, what he maybe has already stolen. But no, he's keeping them safe this way. By retreat, victory. You don't think about what it means to give up seeing graduations, weddings, a hundred other milestones of kids growing up. The small things from the present might just be the worst, though. It's easier to focus on forgetting the future than the way he knows that tonight, he's not going to be among them, saying good-night.

Sometimes he'd come home and just stand in the door, waiting, watching. This was his safe place. Baths, bed-time, play-time, time for school, time to go the park, go to the library. Aaron was the one who managed that, managed the routines and the schedules and made sure everyone was where they needed to be. He'd always say, _"next time, I'll take Penelope to the doctor's"_ or _"I'll be there, I promise"_. And he couldn't. Because they were his kids, but it was Aaron who raised them, who cared for them. Aaron was the steady rock in their lives and they might stampede when Jason came home every night but it doesn't change the absence now. He can't be there, because to be there for too long is to make them less safe.

Jason has always known he was broken. That's why he's running now, perhaps. Because it's safer that way. Because Frank already had the pictures, still has the pictures. Has his books of survivors, of families just like Jason's.

Spencer, who he'd play records to. Spencer had an extraordinary memory, extraordinary brain. Extraordinary smile, just for Jason. It's astounding. Serious-minded Emily, with whom he'd shared books on tape on long car trips. Derek, the family protector, who'd always looked at him with a wary eye. Derek hadn't wanted Jason to tuck him in for a long time now. Penelope and JJ, both of whom he's never been sure what to do with most of the time. They are too much brightness - little girls in fairy dresses dancing for cameras end up in ditches, in woods as small bodies.

But then that's where all the children that Jason Gideon meets end up. Dead or damaged beyond repair.

This is what he sees, when he looks at his family. The book of the saved and the book of the damned. So Jason drives on, happy enough in the silence. It's safe, after all, and safety is a novel feeling. Jason hasn't felt safe since Aidan Bale. Maybe since they'd brought Derek home, but he's not supposed to be thinking about that. Not according to the rules he's now made, because to look back is to want to turn back and he doesn't want to feel that again, ever.

So Jason Gideon runs, eventually to the West Coast and he finds a niche easily enough in the anonymity of LA. There's a house, a regular job with a paycheck and he likes his neighborhood because it doesn't have many families, isn't near a park and is nowhere near a school. And he finds that he disappears easily enough into the flood of single men who live alone, look alone and don't need to talk about their families or what they're running from.

_He did what he had to do_, he says to himself. And it's not as though they couldn't find him, if they really wanted to try.

Then work sends him to Virginia and Jason feels the panic inside him, as he finds himself back there. He walks the streets he used to walk when he was a family man, and doesn't know what to do. The Jason Gideon he has become, who goes to bars, plays chess and fits in easily with the truckers and their tattoos - it's like being back in the military, but without the discipline or the duty. Being here is a sting of old memories and ghosts in every street, every park, every glimpse of children and their fathers. Because he's tried to escape it, but those kids are still his. He is still their father, he says to himself, that's why he ran. It was for them.

Which is why, when he finds himself standing outside JJ, Emily, and Derek's school at 3:15, he isn't surprised. He's not going to talk to them, he promises himself, just watch. Make sure they're all right. If he tries to talk to them, it'll lead to questions he doesn't want to answer and tears he won't be able to endure without coming back for good, putting them right back in the line of fire. Watching won't hurt anyone but himself.

He parks across the street, blue pickup truck not really anything out of the ordinary in Arlington, and sits, waiting for the school bell to ring. All he wants to do is see them – Derek in his basketball gear, Emily with her red coat, JJ in her soccer uniform and Power Rangers backpack – and know they're all right. He would stop by Pen's afternoon kindergarden and Spencer's daycare, too, but no, that's too risky. Much greater chance of running into Aaron and the biggest living reminder that he breaks his promises.

Jason's heart stops when the flood of kids pours out. He can pick out his three immediately. Derek is holding JJ's hand, listening to her babble about something exciting she did today. Her face is so bright as she looks up at Derek that it hurts to look at. Emily is behind them, in a sulk and clutching a paper in her hands. He wonders what could have gotten Emily so upset; she does excellently in school and never gets in trouble, she shouldn't be worried about anything. The kids stand off to the side of the crowd of students, looking around for something, and Jason is confused. Derek is supposed to walk them straight home – why are they stopping?

Then, Jason sees Derek nudge Emily, pointing to something in the opposite direction, and she breaks into a run. A man – what the hell, that's not Aaron, who's touching his girl? - scoops her up and she starts crying into his shoulder. The man has his back to Jason and he can't risk getting a better look at him, but he continues watching as the man soothes Emily, kissing the top of her head. JJ and Derek head over, and the man finally turns around. Jason almost stops breathing from the shock; he knows exactly who's taken his place.

David Rossi.

Smug, self-righteous, melodramatic bastard. Jason should have known – Rossi had always been close to Aaron, but he'd dismissed any other feelings when asked. Claimed they were just "old friends", having met when Rossi did some consulting on a case Aaron was prosecuting. Anyone with eyes could see Rossi had a thing for Aaron. Rossi had never liked the fact that Jason was dating Aaron, nor did he come to their partnership ceremony. And not even a year after Jason left, Rossi has already taken his place, both as father and partner to Aaron (because Jason knows Aaron would never let someone into his children's lives he wasn't also emotionally involved with as well).

Jason could kill Rossi, he really could, for taking what was his. But then he looks closer. Sees the way Emily has settled in Rossi's arms and stopped crying. Sees how Rossi laughs at JJ's jokes and pulls her pigtail affectionately. And Derek – strong, stubborn Derek who doesn't let people in easily – accepts a hug from Rossi as easy as he would one from Aaron. Derek, of all people, trusts Rossi, and that stops Jason from opening the car door and doing something stupid, like tackling Rossi and holding a gun to his head.

He's been replaced, there's no doubt about it. But somehow, it doesn't ache as badly as he thought it would.

They begin walking in his direction, and he fires up the ignition quickly. Doesn't pull out, because Rossi is just as highly trained as Jason is, and will know if something is out of the ordinary. Jason pulls his ballcap down to cover his eyes, and opens the glove compartment to pull out a map of Arlington National Cemetary. Just another lost tourist a half-mile over from where he should be. Nothing special.

They pass by slowly, because Rossi is still carrying Emily and JJ walks in a two-steps-forward-one-step-back pattern that she learned in gym class. Jason tries not to look up, but he can hear them.

Emily's voice, muffled a little by Rossi's jacket. "And Miss Farrell said I should have done better, because Papa's good with numbers and he's supposed to help me study. But I didn't want to tell her he's been busy, and I just couldn't remember when you carry the divisor and what you do with decimal points."

"An 85 isn't the end of the world, Em," Rossi says. "Jaje, quit playing around. If we're not home in ten minutes, Pen will be stuck outside by herself."

Derek snickers. "We'll sure hear about it if she is."

Rossi again: "Oh, keep laughing, mister. You can have the job of playing tea party with her until she calms down."

"Dad, Dad, Dad, look! Dad, look! I can walk backwards!" JJ pesters, narrowly missing walking into a stop sign.

"Eyes front, please," Rossi says, turning her around and shifting Emily onto his other hip. "We do not need you in a leg cast, no matter how cool Derek's was."

Rossi knows, Jason realizes. He knows these kids, knows how JJ likes to act silly to get attention and how Pen cries loud enough to get the entire neighborhood out. How Emily takes everything personally, just like Aaron, and how much math frustrates her. How to tease Derek without making him angry or defensive, the way Jason never could figure out. Rossi cares about them, you can see it plain as day, and Jason never thought he'd see the day when David Rossi became a parent.

Although, he reflects later, when he's driven back to his motel room and watched all three Matrix movies in succession in an attempt to get his mind off things – it's hard to argue when faced with the proof of a hyperactive seven-year-old in cleats that you raised calling someone else "Dad".


End file.
